


Fools by Heavenly Compulsion

by Thetruehamsolo



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst, But frankly less angst than the movie (I hope), Fluff, I'm such a sucker for oblivious boys, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Simon, Pining, best friends working together to fuck with Martin, disaster gay Simon, fuck Martin, oblivious bram, possibly slow burn but honestly I'm a disaster so, thirsty af Simon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetruehamsolo/pseuds/Thetruehamsolo
Summary: "Abby deserved better than to be tricked into a relationship with a dickhead. Simon knew she'd dated terrible people before she'd moved to Georgia. He couldn't be responsible for her having another shitty boyfriend. And she made Nick so intolerably happy."***Even though Simon has asked for Abby's help in taking care of Martin, that doesn't mean that things will fall into place. He still has to actually get his emails back, come out, get over his stupid crush on straight Bram and find out who Blue is. Some to-do list.*on semi-hiatus until 15th May (yay exams)*





	1. Sparrow and Magpie

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw Love, Simon about 4 days ago and I've read pretty much all of the fanfiction on this site already because I cannot get over this story. Ergo I have to write my own.  
> I've ordered the book and hopefully it'll arrive soon because fuck me I need more Simon in my gay life.
> 
> Title from King Lear - it's the play that I studied in school and I'm making the boys study it too. (Edmund, Act i, Scene 2, line 445)
> 
> I've planned for this story to have 18 chapters. I've only written this one but I don't have college right now so I have a fair amount of time to write. I don't know when the next chapter will be up but hopefully it'll be only a day or so and I'll get into a posting schedule  
> I'm Irish so if I'm missing any glaring Americanisms, feel free to correct me.  
> I don't have a beta but if anyone wants to beta this, I'll beta your stuff in return.

“I'm going to ask to do you something for me and I need you to not ask any questions about it.”

Immediately, Abby looked worried. Simon tried to make eye contact with her and failed, so he stared at his car's speedometer, where it sat behind the steering wheel, resting at zero.

Abby cleared her throat. “I can't promise that, Si. But I'll try.”

Simon swallowed. This might be the hardest thing he'd ever have to say. This was harder than he imagined coming out would be, and he was still scared to do that! “I'm being blackmailed.”

Abby gasped. “Simon! What-” She stopped herself, composed herself. “No. None of my business. What do you need me to do?”

God, Simon loved her. He had spent a week trying to figure out how to trick Abby into falling for Martin. But, two nights ago, he'd had a dream about Abby and Martin's wedding, and Abby confiding to him before the ceremony, looking beautiful in a lacy princess dress, that she was only marrying Martin because he was holding something over her.

Maybe that was a little far-fetched, but Abby deserved better than to be tricked into a relationship with a dickhead. Simon knew she'd dated terrible people before she'd moved to Georgia. He couldn't be responsible for her having another shitty boyfriend. And she made Nick so intolerably happy.

No. He couldn't do that to her. But, he could ask for her help. He wasn't going to stay in the closet forever. He just needed a little more time to come out on his own terms (and to figure out who Blue was).

“I need you to go on a date with Martin.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Abby physically recoil. “Martin _Addison_?” It took her a moment to connect the dots. “That little slime ball is holding something over you?” Simon nodded, slouching further over in the seat. “How am I supposed to date him knowing that he's making you so unhappy? Don't get me wrong; I never wanted to date him. Ever. But, Simon, you've been a mess all week and I'm guessing that's his fault? How am I supposed to look at him without punching him, let alone pretend to -” She was so repulsed it almost made Simon smile. Almost. “- _like_ him.”

“You don't have to, Abby. I'm sorry I -”

“Like fuck I don't. I don't care what he has on you. He's hurting you to get to me. I'll play along with his stupid game. Can I ask one question?”

Simon was dreading this. He nodded.

“Will it go away? I mean, is there something you can do to get out of this? If he has proof of something on his phone, I can get it off him and delete it. Is that the plan?”

At that, Simon actually laughed. “You make it sound like we're secret agents. I haven't got a plan. I didn't think to plan any further than asking you for help.”

“And it's a good thing you did,” Abby interjected helpfully.

Simon rolled his eyes. “He has photos of some emails that he's threatening to send around the school. And I… I don't want to keep the secret forever. But I'm not ready yet, you know?”

When Simon looked up, Abby had a sad look in her eyes. She'd figured it out. He was too obvious. Fuck.

“I understand, Si. I'll try to not punch Martin until I can delete the emails.” She grinned cheekily. “Can my nickname be Sparrow? I’m small, brown and cute.”

Simon huffed a laugh. “Do we need nicknames?”

“Yes. You said it yourself. We're secret agents on a secret mission.”

“I think what I said was that we _weren't_ secret agents on a secret mission.”

“You can be Magpie. A lot less graceful than you look and a sucker for shiny things.”

“Hey!”

Abby shrugged and suddenly they were both laughing.

They laughed and laughed until Simon realised how long it had been since he laughed like this and he stopped abruptly.

“Thank you.”

Abby placed her hand on his. “You're welcome, Simon. I hope you realise that this is a sacrifice.” She sounded like she was joking, but Simon knew she was a good actress. He knew that it was a colossal sacrifice for her to make.

“The only thing we haven't planned for is Nick.”

Abby's cheeks turned bright pink. “What about Nick?”

“Come on, Abs. You're not an idiot. He's not going to be pleased if you suddenly start dating someone else. Especially since you two have been flirting for weeks.”

“We have not!” Abby protested weakly. “But fine, what do you suggest we do if - _big_ if, mind you - Nick gets pissed.”

“We'll have to tell him,” Simon said through gritted teeth. The thought of including another person in this before he was ready made him feel cold to his core.

“No.” Abby was instantly firm. “No. We'll lie. I'll say he dared me. Or he's blackmailing me, instead of you. I'll think of something. You can pretend not to know anything.” She paused. “Won't be difficult for you, though, Simple Simon?”

Simon laughed at her teasing. He had the best friends in the world.

 

***

 

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Warning  
_ _Date: October 10 19:45_

I don't want you to freak out.  
Don't freak out, ok? It's under control. Sort of.  
Whatever you do, please don't leave. There's nothing tying you to this.  
Someone knows.  
Someone has screenshots off all of the emails we sent to each other up until last week. I can't tell you who because then you might figure out who I am, and, even though it's you, I'm still not ready for someone else to know.  
But there is nothing tying you to those emails. No one knows it's you.  
I'm going to fix this. He's not going to post them. He asked me for something in return and I'm giving it to him. And we're going to delete the screenshots.  
Or I'm going to come out. Because if he can't hold that over me then he can't hurt you in the crossfire.  
Sorry for all the sentence fragments, I'm a little stressed.  
\- Jacques

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Warning  
_ _Date: October 10 21:39_

Jacques,  
Please remember to keep breathing. It sounds like you're not breathing in your email. (I'm tempted to blame the sentence fragments for your lack of coherence, but I won't bring it up.)  
I'm not going to pretend I'm not freaking out a little. Lying to you wouldn't help either of us since you're the only person I can actually be honest with.  
However, I'm not going to stop emailing you. You said that he had screenshots of our emails, which, I'm assuming, means that he doesn't have access to your account. That means that there are no consequences for us continuing our correspondence. In the unlikely chance that he does have access to your email account, make a new email address and start talking to me there.  
It sounds like you want to not lose me as much as I want to not lose you.  
Definitely calm, Blue.

***

Simon lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, inhaled, counted to six, and exhaled to the count of eight.

Sometimes there were perks to having a psychologist mother.

He repeated this until he no longer felt dizzy. He smiled to himself.

He wasn't going to lose Blue or his secret.

He rolled onto his side and started typing his reply. He fell asleep with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face.

 


	2. The Cuckoo is in the Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin joins the gang for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me! Posting less than 24 hours after the first chapter went up. I have to study for exams today (yes, I wrote this chapter this morning instead of studying...) but hopefully I'll start the 3rd chapter today so I can get that up tomorrow :)

Martin didn’t seem to notice that almost everyone was glaring at him as he approached their table with Abby. Abby took her usual spot between Nick and Bram and Martin pushed Nick’s tray aside so that he could sit beside Abby. Nick almost lost it — Simon had known him for his entire life; he knew what an angry Nick looked like — but he reached across the table and nudged Nick’s hand with his own. He shook his head.

Simon felt terrible. He wanted nothing more than for Nick to get angry and scare Martin off. He wanted Abby to blush and smile and tell him that of course she didn’t like Martin. But that would ruin what he and Abby were working towards. That would mean that Simon would be outed and Blue — even though he swore he wouldn’t — would probably be scared off. (And Simon couldn’t even blame him for that. He suspected that if the roles were reversed, he’d probably have cut all ties as soon as Blue had mentioned blackmail.) Nick would have to handle being jealous a little longer.

Garrett was the last one to join the table. He sat down beside Simon and helped himself to a fry off Simon’s tray before Simon could slap his hand away. Simon glared at Garrett and stole a fry back.

Bram giggled.

_Giggled._

Simon froze, hand still up at his mouth. Bram was a pretty quiet person — almost entirely drowned out all of the time by his loud friends — and Simon was including himself in that statement, even though Bram had never actually said a word to him, and took out his phone and stared at it whenever they were alone.

He and Garrett both looked over at Bram. Simon’s heart was pounding so hard he was surprised the people in the next table over hadn’t heard it. He couldn’t believe that the cutest sound he’d ever heard had just come from the lips of the cutest boy he’d ever met.

Well, he could. But he never imagined that _he’d_ be the one to make Bram laugh like that.

Bram was still smiling, turning pink under the attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Garrett’s hand moving slowly across the table towards Simon’s tray. Simon managed to slap his hand away before he got a fry this time.

And Bram giggled again.

Simon would have let Garrett steal every single one of his fries — and his drink, and his sandwich, and even his damn Oreos — to hear that sound again. The whole table was staring now, wondering what the hell had happened to make Bran act so… un-Bramly.

Bram cleared his throat, his blush descending down his neck. God, Simon wanted to lick it.

“So, Martin. I hear you have a solo in the play,” Bram turned to the devil himself, leaning forwards to look at him around Abby, and started to make conversation.

Simon smiled. He couldn’t help it. Bram was so sweet. He had this completely underrated ability to make anyone feel at ease. Anyone but Simon, of course, but that wasn’t Bram’s fault.

Abby took out her phone and started texting under the table. A moment later, Simon’s phone buzzed.

_The cuckoo is in the nest. A_

_This is why we shouldn’t be using nicknames! Which one of us is the cuckoo again? S_

_You idiot! Martin’s the cuckoo. Cuckoos are the Martins of the bird world. Absolute shitheads. I was trying to subtly say that Martin’s actually fallen for my being into him. A_

Simon flashed Abby an amused grin that no one at the table seemed to notice, everyone else was too preoccupied with the strange interaction between Bram and Martin.

_That’s good, isn’t it? S_

_As good as pretending to date a sociopath ever could be anyway. A_

_Don’t call him a sociopath. We’re not psychologists. We can’t diagnose him. S_

_Oh. My. God. You are soooo your mother’s son. Hey, maybe she can diagnose him. Or at least help him work through whatever shit he’s going through that he’s taking out on you. A_

_Hell no. He might tell my mom my secret. S_

_Good point. A_

Simon looked up from his phone when he heard the cackle. Martin’s head was thrown back (only about an inch from Nick’s face — who looked like he might punch him at any second) and there was a strange hyena-like noise coming from his mouth. It occurred to Simon that he’d never heard Martin laugh before.

He never wanted to hear Martin laugh again. His insides went cold just hearing it. He could imagine Martin laughing like that as he stood over Simon and sent his emails to everyone in the school.

Even Bram looked like he was regretting whatever he’d said to make Martin laugh. He turned to Leah, who was sitting on the opposite corner of the table to him, right beside Simon.

“You’re in the photography club, aren’t you, Leah? I know Jameson was hoping to get some shots of this game into the yearbook, since he’s convinced we’re going to crush New Valley High to smithereens. Are you free to come take some photos on Saturday morning?” As soon as he’d finished speaking, Bram yelped and reached down under the table, seemingly to cradle his calf.

Simon frowned and looked at Garrett who was glaring at Bram. Had Garrett kicked his best friend under the table? Why would he do that unless… _Ohhhhhhh_. It hit Simon like a tonne of bricks. Garrett liked Leah.

Simon glanced at Leah who looked as confused as Simon had been moments before. “Uh… Sure?” She said. “If that’s alright with everyone else on the team.”

Garrett turned to her and, for the first time, Simon saw the affection in his eyes. How had he missed it? He glanced at Bram. Right, yes. He was usually just a little preoccupied. “No one’s not going to want you there. We’ll probably play even better with a pretty girl in the stands to show off to.”

Leah buried her face in Simon’s arm, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. Simon knew, of course, that Leah was beautiful, but she never seemed to believe her closest friends when they told her. 

Simon shook his head at her, laughing. He turned to Bram. “I think that’s a yes,” He said, still smiling.

Bram looked back right back at him. Simon felt like he was drowning in a pool of melted chocolate. He was struggling to breathe. How did straight people function with crushes? He could faintly hear conversations continuing around him but he couldn’t make out any of the words. Bram was smiling at him. Smiling. At Simon. Simon could die right now and he would have died knowing that his life was wonderful.

Then Martin, fucking Martin, tapped Bram on the shoulder and starting talking about himself again. Bram pulled his gaze away from Simon and Simon saw his smile falter a little.

He looked over at Nick, who frowned at him. “ _What was that?_ ” He mouthed.

Simon shook his head and shrugged. _Nothing_ , he tried to convey without words, knowing that he couldn’t lie to Nick with words. _It was nothing_.  
Now he just had to convince himself of that.

*** 

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Eye contact_  
_Date: October 12 17:59_

Do you ever just. Look at someone.  
This is going to be a very fragmenty email. I’m warning you in advance. Because I don’t even know how I feel about this so I’m not going to be able to put this shit into words.  
But do you? And do you ever wonder what is going through some straight guy’s head when he’s looking at you like no one else in the world exists?  
Do you think when we’re in college and out, we’ll stop falling for straight guys?  
I mean, contrary to what straight girls are always saying: Why are all the cute ones straight?  
Apart from you, obviously. I know I’ve never seen you in person, but I can tell that you’re cute.  
I think I was being totally obvious, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t pulled me aside and asked why the fuck I look at him like he’s a glass of water and I’ve been in the desert for a month.  
I suppose being gay in Georgia is a little bit like being in the desert. Your mind plays tricks on you and you think there’s water up ahead but you get closer and there’s no water just more sand.  
Wow. That was poetic. You’re rubbing off me, Blue.  
Not literally.  
Yet ;)  
— Jacques

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Eye contact_  
_Date: October 12 18:32_

Jacques,  
That was horrendously poetic of you. I’m impressed.  
I know exactly how you feel, though. There’s a boy I like as well, and he’s so cute but I’m 90% sure he’s in love with one of his best friends.  
Is it weird that we talk about the people we have crushes on while simultaneously flirting with each other? I feel like that’s a weird thing to do. I’m not saying I mind. I don’t mind.  
I can’t begin to tell you how hot it is that you’re thinking about me like that. I don’t think I have any desire to start sexting with you, no offence, but it is nice to know that it’s not just girls’ heads that I’m turning.  
It sounds like I’m bragging about how many girls are into me. I swear I’m not.  
Yours, Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Re: Eye contact_  
_Date: October 12 20:41_

I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.  
Sorry. That’s something my mom says whenever I ask her to believe me about something a little unbelievable. But I do believe you. I’ve had a girlfriend before (can you even imagine? I’m not sure I can and I was there!), so I understand what it’s like when you think you’re supposed to like a girl that’s throwing herself at you and you’re like, call me if your brother wants to talk.  
I’ve never said that to a girl. But many times I’ve wished I’d had the nerve.  
This girlfriend told me that she loved me at an 8th grade dance and I ran to the bathroom and texted my mom to come pick me up because (and I quote) “kids are drinking alcohol”.  
Embarrassing, right? I’ve never told anyone that. I told all of my friends that I suspected I had food poisoning from the dinner that my sister had cooked. She was in 6th grade and didn’t know what salmonella was, so it wasn’t a far-fetched story.  
It probably is weird that we talk to each other about crushes. But we also don’t have anyone else to talk to. I’m not going to pretend I’m not a little jealous, but if he’s straight then I don’t exactly have competition, do I?  
And if he’s gay, I’ll fight him for your hand.  
— Jacques  
P.S. I know I’d pick you over some hot-but-straight jock in an instant.

***

Simon turned his phone on silent after sending off the email to Blue. He had a lot of algebra homework to do before he went to bed. Mr Wise had also asked them to read the first act of King Lear before their next class, so Simon would have to try and struggle through the complicated verse on his own.

At half past nine, Leah rang the doorbell so the two of them could walk Bieber and her dog, Carly Rae. Simon walked around their neighbourhood with her, though they were less walking than being dragged. They got to the park in their estate and Leah pulled two tennis balls out of her bag of tricks. They threw the balls, made a lot of terrible jokes and talked about nothing and everything, until the dogs were thoroughly exhausted, and then they walked home.

Simon smiled as he let himself and Bieber back into the house. Yes, he was keeping one giant secret from her, but it was nice that he could still be (most of) himself around his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuckoos are absolutely the Martins of the bird world. They trick other species of birds into raising their young for them, and the babies are so sneaky that they will actually remove their “foster” parents’ own eggs/young from their nest in order to be fed themselves.
> 
> Leah’s dog is named after Carly Rae Jepsen. Fight me.
> 
> Also me writing scenes with Simon and Bram, channelling the fuck out of my own gay ass whenever I make eye contact with my crush. Gah she’s so cute (and probably straight ffs).


	3. Cuckoo's Pet Gerbil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuckoo and Sparrow go on a date

Simon had turned his phone on airplane mode during school to save battery. As soon as he plugged it in and turned his SIM back on, his phone almost crashed under a barrage of texts.

_So. I have a date tonight. A_  
_Maybe I can be really disgusting and Martin won’t want to be with me anymore? A_  
_Who am I kidding, I’m wonderful. A_  
_Shit, Simon. What if I have to kiss him? A_  
_I’m not kissing that mouldy ass white boy, Simon. A_  
_Why are you so cute. I can’t even see you right now but I can just tell you’re being adorable. A_  
_I’m going to have to fucking kiss him. A_

_No. God, no. Eat garlic. Onions. Literally drink vinegar. Find out if he has a food allergy and then eat nothing but that all night. For the love of all things Gay, please do not kiss that boy. S_

Her reply was instantaneous. Simon wasn’t sure it was physically possible to even read that fast.

_Simon!!!! You just made your first gay joke!!! I’m so proud of youuuuuuu!!! A_

_…That’s not my first gay joke, Abs. S_

_Are you out to someone else?!?! Si, that’s amazing! A_

_Sort of. I’ll tell you about it later. S_

_Oh. My. God. Are you emailing someone? Are the emails love letters? SIMON. MY HEART CANNOT TAKE THIS. A_

_Abby. Dear lord. Breathe. S_

_Martin’s going to be here to pick me up in twenty minutes. I need a distraction. A_

_I’m not going to distract you by telling you about him. S_

_Shit, I was right, wasn’t I? There is someone?! A_

_Yes. There is. But, since neither of us are out and I have no idea who he is, I don’t want to talk about him. S_

_Oh, Simon. It shouldn’t be this hard for you to just be in love. I’m sorry. A_

_Tell me about it. S_  
_Thank you. S_

_You’re welcome. And I’m here if you need to talk. A  
_ _Shit, that’s the doorbell. I was hoping he’d get lost or crash on the way here or something. A_

_Abby! S_

_Not fatally. Just… A concussion. Or a broken leg. A_

_That makes it ok. S_

_It does, doesn’t it? A_

_No! Are you with him right now? S_

_Yes. He’s a terrible driver so he hasn’t noticed that I’m on my phone. He told me not to talk so that I don’t distract him. A_

_Maybe he’s expecting you to gaze at him fondly while he braves the new world of driving? S_

_I’m not dignifying that with a response. He just stopped at a red light and asked me what my favourite part of his performance in play rehearsal is. A_  
_The light went green before I had to answer but what am I going to do when we’re at the restaurant and I don’t have any escape? A_  
_Quick. Tell me something even remotely good about his performance so I can lie at the next lights! A_

_Um. He’s really good at remembering the dances? S_

_Lol. He believed that. At the restaurant. Garlic and onions, right? A_

_Right. Good luck. And thank you. xxx S_

Simon placed his phone down and tried to focus on something that wasn’t Abby torturing herself for Simon’s wellbeing. There was a knock on his bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Nora’s made some sort of fancy mac and cheese thing with homemade pasta?” Jack Spier phrased this like a question. “I… I don’t know. It’ll be ready in five minutes. Come down.”

Simon reluctantly left his phone in his room. Emily Spier had gotten stricter recently about the dinner table being a phone-free zone. Simon usually enjoyed spending time with his family (not that he’d ever say that to them), but today, he really wanted to stay on his phone to make sure Abby was alright.

He texted her a quick ‘ _Going down for dinner. I’ll eat fast and come back up. S_ ’ before leaving his phone on the desk and heading down for the family meal.

***

If Nora didn’t win some sort of cooking award at some point in her life, Simon was going to hunt down Gordon Ramsey and force him to give her one. Sure, her experiments didn’t always work out perfectly, but when they did…

Simon checked his phone. Ten new messages. Shit.

_He’s in the restroom. We’ve 40 minutes in and we’ve done nothing but talk about him. A_  
_Which is fine, because I don’t want him knowing anything about me. A_  
_But, holy shit, Si, this guy is boring. He talked for 7 minutes about his pet gerbil, Simpson. And I know it was 7, because I timed it. Yes, gerbils are cute, Simon, but 7 minutes is a long ass time. A_  
_And it’s not like he can do tricks?! Martin was just talking about Simpson’s sandbaths and how he’s nocturnal and I don’t care! A_  
_This is the worst date I’ve ever been on and I dated a drug dealer. A_  
_Actually, that’s not fair. Jorge was sweet and kind of doted on me. I really only broke up with him because he got high and shot a cat. A_  
_Who lived, btw. He missed, mostly. She has only half a tail now, but that’s not so bad. A_  
_Martin’s going to be living without any tail for his whole life. A_  
_“Tail” is slang for female genitalia. Just in case your lil gay self didn’t know that. A_  
_We’re going to skip dessert. If anyone asks, I’m on a new diet. All I eat is food with a lot of garlic and nothing else. Which means no desserts. So sad. A_

Simon felt more than a little guilty at this point. The more he learnt about Martin, the more he realised how much he sucked. Yes, Abby had gotten more than a couple of laughs from him while he was reading her texts, but he knew that she was using humour to cover up how uncomfortable she was, and he also knew that it was all his fault.

A new text arrived while Simon was trying to figure out how to reply.

_He tried to kiss me when he dropped me home. I told him I wanted our first kiss to be more spectacular, more romantic, than the cliché post-first-date. He’s such a sucker. I could probably tell him the earth was flat and he’d manage to find a way to fall off it. A_

_You have that effect on a lot of boys, Abby. S_

_I know. Who wouldn’t want to fall off the earth for me? A_

Simon thanked Abby again and went out to walk Bieber and Carly Rae with Leah, who managed to convince him to go to the soccer game with her tomorrow. As if Simon would know any more about sports than Leah would. He agreed anyway.

And knowing that Cute Bram Greenfeld would be there, running around in shorts and possibly shirtless… That didn’t sway his decision in any way.

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Supersitions_  
_Date: October 13 22:34_

Dearest Jacques,  
Today is Friday the 13th. That is a very redundant statement, since you probably know what day it is.  
I spent the whole day avoiding screaming teenage girls who, for example, refused to go into our History classroom because there was a broken lightbulb over the door. I’m not trying to say that teenage girls are ridiculous, because plenty of teenage boys have stupid superstitions. Especially about sports.  
Have I told you that the captain of my sports team kisses each and every one of us on the forehead before we go out on the field? I have no clue why he does it. But, if he skips any one of us, if anything bad happens on the field, he’ll blame himself.  
I wonder if he’d stop kissing me if he found out I was gay. I’m not saying that I have a crush on him or anything, but it’s comforting, like the protective spell that the fairy puts on Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.  
Wow, that might be the gayest thing I’ve ever said.  
Is it offensive to say that, even though I’m gay? Am I perpetuating stereotypes? I’ve never given myself a chance to be into musicals, because I was so afraid that someone would accuse me of being gay.  
Maybe I’ll go to a musical in college.  
Yours, Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Re: Superstitions_  
_Date: October 13 23:05_

You should come to our musical! How have you never been to the school musicals? Ok, they’re usually pretty terrible, but I’m not sure you’re allowed to get your gay card unless you’ve seen at least one musical.  
We’re doing Oliver. You’ve probably seen the posters. I’m… I mean, I’m one of the boys in the background. One of the orphans, one of Fagin’s boys, one of the jurors in the court scene at the end.  
I’m not talented enough to be anyone important.  
Ok, that sounded bitter. I’m not bitter. I’m not.  
Much.  
I’d kind of love a solo? Or a speaking role that isn’t just ‘Boy 1 says “Corr, blimey!”’ (I don’t actually say that, I’m not going to tell you my actual lines because then you could come see the play and figure out who I am and I’m not exactly ready for that? Maybe I will be by opening night.)  
I hate Friday the 13th. I guess I’m a little superstitious. I mean, I’m not so dumb as to say the name of the Scottish Play in a theatre. But that’s just common sense.  
I don’t step in cracks on the road. Not because I think it’ll break my mom’s back or anything, I’m just cautious. The only thing I definitely don’t believe in is those chain emails/texts/facebook posts.  
And I don’t walk under ladders in case something falls on my head. I think I’m allowed to have that one.  
Black cats aren’t bad luck, though. They’re just adorable.  
Yes, I’m one of those dog people that doesn’t think cats are evil! Maybe I just think the world needs both; extroverted (dogs) and introverted (cats).  
I think that’s why my parents are such a good couple. My mom would be content to spend her life sitting on the couch watching movies with the family but my dad drags us out on these crazy adventures. My dad brings my mom out of her shell and my mom makes sure my dad doesn’t get too carried away with his schemes.  
Is it weird that my parents’ relationship is kind of a goal for me? I’d love to have the sort of give-and-take constructive relationship with my life partner that they found with theirs.  
Should I not have talked about how happy my parents are? I know your parents aren’t together any more. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.  
— Jacques  
P.S. If your captain stops kissing your head when you come out, I’ll kiss you instead.

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Superstitions_  
_Date: October 14 00:03_

Dear Jacques,  
I’ve never been to the school musical. My friends were all “too cool” to go, so we’d usually hang out in the Waffle House on opening night because it’s usually empty (you’d be surprised how many of the patrons of WaHo are from our school — or maybe you wouldn’t).  
I’ll try to convince them to go this year. Worst comes to the worst I’ll just go on my own.  
I think the length of that email in itself is very telling about how superstitious you actually are. Don’t worry, it’s a lot cuter on you than on the girls (though I might be a little biased about that).  
I don’t mind you talking about your parents, Jacques. It’s actually nice to hear that love can last. It gives me hope that humanity isn’t doomed to have nothing but failed relationships and divorces. It gives me hope that I might have a long-lasting healthy relationship.  
I suppose it’s different for me. My parents got married about three months before I was born and they met less than a year before that. They’ve never said it explicitly, but all the signs point to a one-night-stand with pretty heavy consequences. They weren’t each others’ fairytale ending and my dad is so much happier with my step-mom. It’s hard for me to resent them for wanting to be happy.  
It’s comforting to know that that probably won’t ever happen to me. When I get married (if I get married), it will be because I’m with someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not just someone I knocked up.  
Yours, Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that the chapter count has gone up to 19. I got a little carried away with this chapter and ended up splitting it into 2 so that I could post one tonight.  
> I don't know what sort of history they give Bram's parents in the book but they don't give him any in the movie so I made one up.  
> Because I finished the first chapter with emails between Simon and Blue, I now feel like all of the chapters have to end that way. But it's nice, because the movie doesn't have a lot of the actual emails and I'm enjoying their interactions.


	4. Magpie reacts to Shiny Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Leah go to a soccer match

Soccer matches in Creekwood High were on at an ungodly hour of the morning, so that the pitch, or field, or whatever it was, could be used by the “real football” teams in early afternoon.

“Kick-off” was at nine in the morning and the game was ninety minutes with a fifteen minute intermission halfway through. Simon was pretty sure it wasn’t called an ‘intermission’ but he’d reached his capacity for learning new sports words for a day.

Leah was trying to find the right setting on her camera to take the best photos when Nick, Garrett and Bram approached. They were already dressed in their not-costumes (Nick had almost cried laughing when Simon had called them that before, but he was pretty sure he’d never be able to pull off saying ‘kit’).

Bram looked radiant in green. Simon tried to keep his staring less than obvious, which wasn’t easy. He focused on Nick and Garrett instead, who were talking animatedly about the upcoming match, but he couldn’t pay attention to what they were saying.

He glanced at Bram and frowned as Bram’s eyes darted away from his face. Why was Bram looking at him? Oh god, did he have something on his face? Simon could feel his cheeks heating up. He shouldn’t have agreed to this.

Before Simon could run back to his car, drive home, and curl up in a ball under his duvet and never show his face in public again, a man walked out onto the pitch and blew a whistle.

Nick patted Simon on the shoulder. “That’s our cue, Si.”

Garrett mumbled something to Leah that Simon didn’t catch.

As Bram passed, Simon blurted “break a leg!”

Bram glanced back at him, grinning, and Simon sat down on the bench and buried his face in his hands. When he eventually looked up, Leah was staring at him.

“Are you ok, Simon?”

Simon nodded. “It’s nothing,” he squeaked.

Leah opened her mouth, probably to reply that it clearly wasn’t nothing, that Simon was basically a puddle of goo on the ground because a cute boy smiled at him and that didn’t make any sense, but someone was looking out for Simon today because the man blew his whistle again and Leah had to turn around to focus on the game.

Simon knew about two rules of soccer from playing it in gym class in elementary school. 1. No hands except the goalie, and 2. Try to score by kicking the “round thingie” into the “netted thingie”.

His gym teacher hadn’t liked him very much. He had always talked down to Simon as if he was a bumbling idiot who didn’t know up from down. Simon knew what a “ball” was, thank you very much, Coach Bradley. Bradley had always thought that all boys should be very into sports and they were probably gay if they weren’t. Simon chuckled to himself about how right his old gym teacher had been about him, but it was still a shitty stereotype to have for people.

He knew that the goal that their team was trying to score in was close to where Simon was sitting. Leah and the soccer captain had chosen that spot specifically because he wanted all of their amazing goals to be caught on camera. He could see the New Valley goalie standing just in front of the net, hunkered down a little.

Simon thought he looked attractive from his profile. He clearly played a lot of sports because he had very toned legs and a very defined… arm. Simon could only see one of his arms, so he really couldn’t make a judgement about the other one. The New Valley costumes were white but the goalie was dressed in bright blue.

Simon frowned and glanced down to the other goal. How had he never noticed that their own goalie was wearing yellow? It wasn’t a subtle yellow either, it was a tacky neon yellow. As Simon took in the rest of the team, he spotted Bram, running towards him (ok, not towards him, but in his general direction). His arms were gleaming with sweat already and he was panting and beaming.

Definitely not like he’d just had sex. That wasn’t where Simon’s mind had been going at all. Bram, as usual, had completely interrupted Simon’s train of thought. Ah, that explained why Simon had never noticed the goalie.

Bram ran past them and, no, Simon had to be imagining this, winked at Simon. Then, suddenly, he had the ball, and Simon was suddenly swept up in the urgency of the game and he suddenly felt like he understood sports and Bram was running and keeping the ball at his feet and never tripping over it (”dribbling”, Nick would say. Simon called it magic).

And then he drew back his right leg and the ball was flying towards the goal and…

The team roared. New Valley players threw their hands up in disgust. Simon saw out of the corner of his eye that Leah was smiling at her camera.

There was someone else cheering. Simon hadn’t even noticed that he was on his feet. He was clapping and shouting and he hadn’t given any of his body parts permission to do so.

Garrett was running around in circles with his jersey pulled up over his head. Simon made eye contact with Leah and they both burst out laughing. The team’s zeal was infectious.

The rest of the match was peppered with rushes like that and lows of bitter disappointment the one time the New Valley team managed to score. Mostly, it was just twenty teenage boys, running up and down after a ball, getting sweatier and sweatier.

Why did Simon hate sports again? Or at least, soccer. He understood his reasons to not like hockey or American football — the players tended to be pretty covered up (and Bram didn’t play either of those sports), but Simon could change his mind about soccer.

They ended up winning, with four goals to one. The captain came right over to Leah and they went through the photos. He complimented each and every one. “Garrett was right to suggest you. Thank you,” He said before he left to go back to the changing room. Then, Leah and Simon were alone on the edge of the pitch. New Valley High were stomping onto their bus and the Creekwood team were doing whatever soccer players did in a changing room after a win.

Simon tried not to think too hard about it.

Since Simon was giving Nick a lift home, he and Leah had to wait in the car until he was ready. Leah showed Simon her photos. The captain was right; they really were excellent. One photo in particular took his breath away. It was Bram, mid-celebration, probably after the third goal (the second one that he himself scored). He was grinning, Garrett and Nick were running up behind him, slightly (artistically) out of focus. Bram was looking almost right at the camera, but off slightly to the left.

He was looking at _Simon_.

Simon tried to play it cool, in front of Leah, in front of the boys when they came out, and the whole way home.

It wasn’t until he was in his bedroom that he allowed himself to show any emotion at all. He flung himself onto his bed and screamed into his pillow.

He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know what any of it meant.

Simon glanced at his laptop, sitting on his windowsill where he’d put it last night after emailing Blue.

Blue. There was no way… right? Of course not. Shy, introverted Bram probably winked at everyone.

Holy _shit_.

Simon sat up and forced himself to breathe. He couldn’t get his hopes up. He had no proof. And even if he did have, did he want to know who Blue was?

Obviously, yes. But at the same time… Neither he or Blue were ready to be out. So, it didn’t matter if it was Bram or anybody else. There was no point in meeting Blue in person until they were both ready to be open to the world about who they were, right?

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Thinking_  
_Date: October 14 22:02_

I thought about you a lot today. Not… Not in a creepy way. I think.  
I was just thinking about us. About who you were. About how I have no idea who you are and you have no idea who I am and yet I know you and you know me.  
I don’t need to know your name to know that you’ve become like a best friend to me. I don’t need to know what you look like to know that I want to hold your hand.  
And this isn’t me saying that I want to come out tomorrow and let’s meet up and adopt ten babies and be gay together, fuck what everyone else thinks.  
This is just me saying… God, what we have is weird. So many people wouldn’t understand it.  
But I kind of love it? I was so sick of being gay all on my own and I’m so glad that I have someone to be gay with. Even if it’s just online.  
We’ve only been talking for about a month, but already I feel so close to you.  
Are we crazy? I think we might be certifiably insane.  
Sorry for rambling. My emails to you have become a little bit like a diary and so they’re not always my most coherent thoughts.  
I just… I appreciate you, Blue. I really hope you know that.  
— Jacques

***

Simon fell asleep waiting for a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon is a disaster.  
> Boy, how do you function.


	5. Everyone Hates the Cuckoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't post a chapter here yesterday because I spent all day working on a 6k soulmate AU one-shot: [Needle in a Haystack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14433111)

A week and a half passed in a blur. Simon was so busy with schoolwork and the play and emailing Blue that he didn’t even noticed when the weekend rolled around again. Leah dragged him to two more soccer matches that she’d been asked to photograph and Simon even managed to say a whole sentence to Bram without tripping over his words.

He and Blue were growing ever closer and Simon was starting to wonder if maybe he wouldn’t have to wait until college to be out. Ethan managed just fine being out, but, then, Ethan was never exactly in the closet. Not like Simon, who’d dated girls and who’d managed to fool pretty much everyone. But Simon knew that couldn’t ask Blue to come out with him, just like he couldn’t come out just because of Blue. If anything bad happened because Simon was out, he didn’t want to blame Blue for it. Simon had to come out on his own terms, for his own reasons. And some day he’d be ready to do so.

The state of the friendship between Simon and his three best friends was getting more tense by the day. Martin had wedged himself into the middle of their lunch table every day for the past two weeks and Nick had nearly reached his breaking point. Simon had tried to get him to leave Abby alone, to reason with him, and it had worked, a little.

For some reason, today was the final straw for Nick. As soon as Abby got into the car, Nick glared at her.

“Martin?” He bellowed. Abby flinched. Leah and Simon shared a look. Simon started to drive, hoping to get to school and out of the car as fast as he could. “What the fuck do you see in Martin Addison? He’s actual scum! I know you’ve only been in the school for two months, but he is the worst. In our freshman year, Leah was in the school play, did you know that?” Leah sank down into her seat. She hated this story. “She was playing Martin’s love interest. He insisted on practising their kissing scene over and over again and when Leah refused, he started licking her instead! She hasn’t been in a play since, because of that freak.

“We all hate him! He is the lowest lowlife to ever grace the halls of Creekwood High.” Nick paused for breath and suddenly deflated like a pierced balloon. “You deserve so much better than him, Abby. Why can’t you see that? Anyone in the school, anyone, would be better than Martin Addison.” He slumped away from her, glaring out the window.

Simon made eye contact with Abby in the rear-view mirror and winked. Abby blushed.

She reached out and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I don’t like him,” She said, so softly that Simon almost couldn’t hear. “I hate him. Even more now that I’ve heard that story.” She raised her voice a little. “Leah, I’m so sorry that he did that to you.” Leah huffed, turning even redder.

“When I finally tell you why I’m doing this, you’re going to hate him so much you see red. Even more than you currently do. I can’t tell you why I have to do this, but I do. And I want you all to know that nothing, nothing, will make me like Martin Addison. As soon as this is over, I will end it and none of us will ever talk to him again. But, for the next few weeks, we need to try not to kill him. Ok?”

“Ok,” Leah said. “But whatever you’re doing, you know we’ll help you, right? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Simon felt a twinge of love for his best friend and very nearly came out, right then and there, before Abby interrupted him.

“I’m not alone, I have Martin.”

They all burst out laughing. And that was the end of that.

***

Simon couldn’t quell the traitorous thoughts that kept reminding him how empty the table was without Cute Bram Greenfeld. They were only five minutes into lunch and Simon was sickened by how pathetic he was. Garrett’s phone buzzed on the table beside him.

Garrett peered at the screen. “Bram’s gonna be along in a minute. He needed to talk to Mr Wise.” Simon tried to react like a normal person who was not obsessed with Bram’s smile would react in this situation.

Martin put his arm around Abby and Simon made eye contact with her and willed his mind to send her apologies through the air. “Finally, I was beginning to miss my favourite conversationalist.”

Bram was the only person at the table who was even remotely nice to Martin and, even then, there was a trace of dislike in everything that he said. Martin seemed completely oblivious to that. Simon didn’t like the thought of Martin calling Bram ‘his’. It was ridiculous that his face was flushing with jealous rage that Martin, fucking Martin, had the guts to call Bram ‘his’.

Simon was trying to calm his thundering heart when he spotted a familiar (gorgeous) curly head entering the cafeteria. Bram smiled at him (them, obviously, and probably Garrett at that) and waved. Simon’s rage melted away with that smile. Now his heart was pounding for a different reason. He looked back at his tray and attempted to finish off his rice, by stabbing each grain with his fork and eating them, one by one.

By the time Bram sat down beside Abby, Simon had only managed to eat three grains of rice. But he wasn’t really hungry.

“I have fantastic news.” Bram beamed at everyone at the table. “My mom’s going to be in Florida all week because my aunt’s boyfriend ran off with her car again.”

“Bram, that’s terrible —” Abby tried to protest, but she was cut off.

“All week?” Garrett asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Until Monday. She’s using up all of her holidays. My aunt is a wreck.”

“Monday?” Garrett looked like he was going to explode with joy.

“I don’t understand,” said Martin, and, for once, Simon agreed with him.

“Oh you poor simple greasy little boy,” Garrett said. (”Hey!” Martin retorted. He was ignored) He looked back at Bram. “May I?”

Bram nodded. “You may.”

Suddenly, Garrett’s hand was on Simon’s head and he was using him to help himself stand up on the bench. “Hear ye, hear ye! In honour of the upcoming All Hallow’s Eve, I hereby —”

“Speak English, dick-fisher!” Some footballer who thought he was all that interrupted Garrett, who, to his credit, didn’t look too fazed.

“Halloween party at Bram’s house Friday night! If you don’t know where it is, you’re a loser.”

Bram’s house. Party.

Bram looked around at all of their friends before his gaze settled on Simon. “I hope you’ll come.”

Simon felt like Bram was speaking to his very soul.

“Of course we will,” Leah piped up. “We have a costume picked out already!”

Bram smiled. “Good.”

“We should do a couples’ costume, babe,” Martin said. Nick cracked his knuckles. Simon stopped him with a look.

“Uh. Sure. I’ve already got my Wonder Woman costume, though.”

“I can be Steve Trevor!”

The thought of Martin even coming close to Chris Pine in any respect was so funny to Simon that he choked on his Oreo. Garrett thumped his back while he gasped for air.

When he finally looked up, eyes streaming, everyone was looking at him.

“I’m fine,” He croaked. “Just, uh, went down the wrong pipe.”

Eventually, the table returned to its normal sound levels and Simon finished off the rest of his Oreos in peace.

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 16:50_

I’ve never been to a Halloween party before. Yes, I’m lame. My friends and I usually hang out at one of our houses since we’re too old to go trick or treating ourselves, and steal from the bowl of candy for the children.  
I’ve only had alcohol once in my life and that was when we all went to France and my dad convinced my mom to let us all try a sip of their wine because “who can go to France and not drink French wine?”  
Honestly, I wasn’t a huge fan.  
But this year, I’m going to a Halloween party and there will probably be alcohol and I’ll probably get drunk.  
Are you doing anything this year? Are you planning to dress up?  
— Jacques

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 17:17_

Dear Jacques,  
Forgive me if I don’t tell you what I’m planning to dress up as. Yes, I will be dressing up. For the sake of arguments, let’s pretend I’m going to dress up in a slutty oreo costume.  
I’m going to a party as well, though I’m not certain I’ll drink. Alcohol is a bit like a truth serum, and you of all people know that I have things I need to keep hidden.  
You know you can go to the party and not drink, don’t you? No one’s going to force you.  
Yours, Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 17:42_

A slutty oreo costume? I don’t even care that you’re joking, my mouth is watering.  
If we’ve revealed who we are by next Halloween, you better believe that you’ll be wearing that.  
I’ll dress up as something slutty too, if you want. Name it and it will be done.  
Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. I was a little scared that I’d be a lightweight and maybe that I’d vomit, but I never thought about word-vomit. I may have to rethink the whole alcohol thing.  
— Jacques  
P.S. If I have an oreo-related wet dream tonight, that’s on you.

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 17:58_

Dearest Jacques,  
If you have an oreo-related wet dream tonight, then I will be extremely worried about your level of obsession with oreos. Maybe I should take back the slutty oreo idea. I don’t want to encourage this…  
Yours, Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 18:16_

Don’t take it back! Please! I won’t have any dreams, wet or otherwise, about oreos ever again.  
I’ll learn to lucid dream just so I can avoid those oreos in my sleep.  
I need my slutty-oreo-Blue.  
You never said what you wanted me to dress up as next year. Maybe a sexy Jon Snow?  
— Jacques

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 18:39_

Dearest Jacques,  
Jon Snow is sexy just as he is, thank you very much.  
How dare you come into my home and insult my future husband.  
Yours, Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 19:43_

Hah! Jon Snow will never marry you because he’s committed himself to a life of abstinence on the wall!  
Yes, I started watching the show. No, it wasn’t just because you like it.  
Ok, maybe it was.  
But it’s good.  
I suppose a ‘slutty’ Jon Snow would be a better costume idea because you’re right, it’d be hard ;) to make Jon Snow any sexier than he already is.  
But since I don’t have anything on him, the only way I can compare is by slutting it up.  
— Jacques

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 20:03_

Jacques,  
I’ve dropped the ‘dearest’ from your address because you just used ‘slutting’ in an email.  
I don’t think I can ever forgive you. No matter how slutty you make Jon Snow, you’re dead to me now.  
Blue

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 20:19_

Please forgive me. I’ll do anything.  
— J

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 20:26_

Anything?

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Halloween_  
_Date: October 25 20:34_

Anything.

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_To: me_  
_Subject: Re: Halloween_  
_Date October 25 20:52_

I’ve built this up too much in my head.  
I can’t think of anything.  
I almost said ‘don’t mention oreos for a week’ but I don’t think I can be that cruel to you.  
I don’t ever want to be cruel to you, my dearest Jacques.  
Yours, Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! I'll hopefully have the next one up tomorrow or the next day!


	6. Magpie in a Wig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and his friends go to Bram's Halloween party

Leah fixed Simon’s wig and beamed up at him. “You make a handsome Ron Weasley.”  
Simon peered over her head into the mirror. “I still think we should have dyed my eyebrows.”

Leah laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Si,” She said. “What if it hadn’t washed out?”

Simon feigned hurt. “You don’t think I’d look fantastic with orange eyebrows?”

Leah shook her head. “You’re such a dork. Are the false teeth too much?”

They were going as book-compliant Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Leah’s hair had been frizzed to maximum capacity by Nora and she’d even got fake teeth that make her two front teeth slightly larger. Simon had been showered in freckles and they’d found a ginger wig in the costume shop in the Shady Creek mall that suited Ron Weasley to a T. Leah was dressed in a pretty accurate partly-homemade Hogwarts uniform and Simon and Nora had had loads of fun ageing his to make it look like it had been bought second hand and worn by six teenage boys before him.

Friday night had arrived and Simon was nervous. Yes, this would probably be a pretty big party, Garrett had announced it to the whole school, but it would still be in Bram’s house. Simon would be going to Bram’s house.

And he wasn’t going to act like a fucking creep that was for sure. Definitely not.

Nick picked them up at eight o’clock in what looked like, in the dark of the car at least, to be just his soccer uniform. Simon didn’t ask.

They met up with Abby and Fucking Martin in front of Bram’s house. Simon tried not to feel like a stalker. He’d been invited here. He wasn’t a creep for showing up to a party where the host had invited him personally (with an embarrassing amount of eye contact, Simon remembered, blushing). In fact, it would have been rude of him not to show up. He was going to go inside and not act like everything in the house was a shrine to Cute Bram Greenfeld. He wasn’t going to stare at baby pictures on the wall. He wasn’t going to go to the bathroom and think about Bram having a shower (naked!). And he certainly wasn’t going to find Bram’s room and smell his pillow.

He was going to be normal.

Bram opened the door at Simon’s first knock, like he’d been waiting for them. (No, Simon, he was the host, he was probably just welcoming everyone in.) He beamed at Simon and Simon felt his cheeks and even his ears going red (Oh God, he really was Ron Weasley).  
Post-presidency Barrack Obama. That was clever. Nick announced that he was Christiano Ronaldo and Leah declared that, next year, Nick would not be allowed to come up with his own costume. Thinking about next year’s Halloween reminded Simon of Blue’s sexy Oreo promise and he blushed even redder.

Finally, more guests arrived behind them and Bram waved Simon and his friends into the house to welcome the next group.

After half an hour of mingling, Simon wandered into the kitchen. Bram and Nick were chatting about something, but fell silent when they saw him.

“You want a drink, bro?” Was it just Simon, or did Bram’s voice crack over the word ‘bro’. Simon tried not to think too much of it. Yes, he and Bram had never been particularly close, but he thought they’d been a lot friendlier over the past few weeks. Not that Simon exactly wanted to be Bram’s ‘bro’.

“Simon doesn’t drink,” Nick said.

Simon flushed. “I’ll have a beer.” He ignored Nick’s spluttering and took a can from Bram. “Thanks,” he said. “Cheers.” He held out the can and Bram tapped his own against it. Their fingers brushed off each other and Simon jumped back like he’d been shocked. He was definitely imagining that Bram looked hurt. Wasn’t he?

He took a sip and very nearly spat it out. Nick laughed at him. “Is it always this disgusting?” He asked.

“Only when you’re sober enough to notice,” Nick replied, clearly enjoying this. Simon decided that he hated him. Nick was no longer his best friend. Bram was laughing too, but he at least had the decency to hide his grin behind his beer can.

“You’re both terrible. I’m going to go look for my real friends.”

Their laughter only got louder as Simon left. He only sipped at his first beer, and with each sip he wondered why he was still drinking it at all. When he put down his empty can, feeling delightfully buzzed, Abby and Martin were calling him over for a drinking-and-ping-pong game that they’d managed to rope Bram into. Simon was on Bram’s team. (Simon tried not to think about Bram playing for his team, because that was far too much for his gay heart to bear.)

They won. Or so Simon thought. By the time they’d finished playing, the four of them were really quite drunk. _Oops_ , Simon thought, _Blue wouldn’t approve of this_.

“What?” Bram looked at him like he’d seen a ghost. “What did you say?”

“Did I say that out loud?” Simon mumbled. “Oh, dear. Hey, Brammy-Bram. We should be friends.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Karaoke friends.”

“Spier, you are a genius.”

And then, in a blur, Simon was standing on a coffee table, screaming his heart out to Fall Out Boy with Bram beside him getting every other word wrong. Their singing really was quite terrible and most people weren’t drunk enough to put up with it, so the room slowly emptied until only Garrett and a few people Simon didn’t know (or was too drunk to recognise) were left.

The next song that came on was Irresistible, and Simon cheered and began singing (yelling) along. Bram almost fell off the coffee table and Simon managed to catch him with the front of his shirt and somehow pulled him back to standing.

Bram’s face was very close to his own. He couldn’t make his hand let go, it seemed to be refusing to do what he wanted. Or maybe it was doing exactly what he wanted.  
Simon could move two inches forwards and he’d be kissing Bram. He was pretty sure he was still singing, but the world around him was melting away as he looked into Bram’s eyes.

The song ended. Abruptly. The spell broke. Simon let go of Bram and they moved apart. Simon could have sworn that Bram was panting. Simon still wanted to kiss him.

Bram stumbled forwards. “I’m going to my room. I need some quiet,” He announced to the room. As he passed Simon, he winked.

After Bram had disappeared up the stairs, Garrett came up behind Simon. “Second door on the left,” He whispered, taking the microphone out of Simon’s hand.

Simon wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He sat down on the couch and tried to make sense of everything through the cotton wool in his brain.

Garrett was singing Nicki Minaj and the room was filling up again.

Simon went upstairs. He managed not to trip. He was pretty proud of himself. The second door on the left. Simon looked at the door. He reached out for the handle, but he let his hand fall. He spotted an open door leading to a bathroom and decided to head in there first.

He looked a mess. His ginger wig was gone and his freckles had smudged so now his face just looked dirty. He splashed cold water on his face and tried to sober himself up. He knew from watching others that he was probably too drunk to remember this. He definitely wanted to remember if he was going to stride into Bram’s room and…

This was ridiculous. He couldn’t kiss Bram. Could he? What about Blue? What about the comfort of the closet? Simon closed his eyes and remembered five minutes ago, with his hand so close to Bram’s heart and his lips so close to Bram’s lips. Bram hadn’t seemed especially eager to get away. Maybe Simon actually had a chance?

There was only one way to find out.

Simon dried his face with a towel that could easily be the softest that he’s ever used, and leaves the bathroom. He walks back to the second door on the left. Slowly. Determined. Why couldn’t Bram be Blue? He was just as likely a canditate as any other boy in the school. Actually, he was more likely than a lot of them.

Simon pushed open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly shorter chapter today
> 
> Also, Leah isn’t in love with Nick or Simon in this because, big shock here, girls can be friends with TWO WHOLE GUYS without falling for either of them!!


	7. A Magpie's Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween part 2

Bram jumped away from the girl he’d been kissing. Simon blinked.

“Sorry,” He stammered and stumbled from the room.

Simon found that it was a lot easier to walk up the stairs drunk than down. Leah rushed forwards and helped him down the few remaining steps.

“Wanna go home,” He slurred into Leah’s ear.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best. Your breath reeks.”

Good thing he didn’t try to kiss Bram, then. Also, you know, the whole kissing-a-girl thing.

Leah told Simon to wait on a bench by the front door until she came back with Nick. Simon was too drunk to go anywhere. He looked up at the stars and sighed. He’d really thought that Bram had been Blue. All of the signs were there! But Blue wouldn’t have kissed a girl.

Garrett sat down beside him. “Sorry, mate.” Simon frowned at him. “I told you to go up there, remember? I thought… I don’t know what I thought. He always acts so strange around you. Maybe it was wrong of me to assume.”

“He was kissing a minion.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “I mean, he’s really drunk, Simon.”

“No, no. _I’m_ drunk Simon. He’s drunk Bram.”

Garrett laughed. “You are such a lightweight, Spier.”

Leah and Nick came back before they could talk any more. Leah helped him into the back seat of Nick’s car.

“If you throw up back there, Simon, you owe me a new car,” Nick warned. Simon mumbled an agreement.

He must have fallen asleep in the car because all of a sudden they were home. Simon and Leah tried to sneak upstairs without being noticed by Simon’s parents, and failed miserably. But finally, finally, Simon was back in his room.

He sat down on the couch and started crying.

“Oh, Simon, oh god. What the hell happened back there?” Leah rushed to his side.

Simon stopped crying as quickly as he stopped and hiccupped. He placed his hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Leah, you’re my best friend.”

“Simon, you’re drunk—”

“No, no, listen. You’re my best ever friend. Ever. And I was so scared to tell you but I want to tell you. Because you’re my best friend.”

“Tell me what, Si? Can this wait until the morning?”

“No!” That was loud. “No,” he whispered. “No. Can’t wait. Leah, m’gay.”

“What?”

“I am a homomosexual.”

“A homosexual?”

“That’s what I said,” Simon rolled his eyes.

“That’s not exactly what you said. You’re gay?”

“Yes. I like boys, Lee-lee. Strong, sexy men-boys. Like—” Simon started crying again. “Like Bram.”

“Bram Greenfeld?”

“He’s so pretty, Leah. Have you seen his legs?”

“Yes, I have. They’re… impressive?”

Simon coughed and tasted acid. “Oh no.”

Leah put the trashcan in front of Simon in the knick of time. All of Simon’s vomit went in there instead of all over the room.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom. Come on.”

***

_From: me_  
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Mistakes_  
_Date: October 28 01:12_

I got drunk. I think I’m pretty sober now. I threw up a lot. Why do people even like drinking?  
I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did. A cute boy smiled at me and suddenly we were drunk.  
I came out to another of one my best friends tonight. At least, I think I did. I’m pretty sure I called myself a ‘homomosexual’. I’m sure she understood.  
I think another one of my friends now knows as well. He didn’t react the way I thought he would. I mean, I thought he was a bit of a douchebag, since he’s a jock (and I know that that’s a terrible assumption to make because plenty of nice people play sports) but he didn’t seem to mind. I don’t understand why anyone would mind, but this is Georgia, so.  
I don’t think I told anyone else. And I don’t think your name came up. Or your ‘name’, I guess.  
I never imagined that I’d be able to tell people. I mean, yes, I imagined being out in college and having a boyfriend… But I could never imagine coming out to my friends and family. I still can’t imagine coming out to my family. God, that’s going to be tough. You’ve inspired me, Blue. You’ve given me a courage that I never knew I had.  
I don’t know if any of them will remember in the morning, I don’t know how drunk they were. I also don’t know if they’ll take me seriously, because of how drunk I was. But I think I’m brave enough to say it again.  
I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.  
Love, Jacques

***

As soon as Simon pressed send, he realised what he’d signed. “Shit,” He whispered, trying not to wake Leah up. He couldn’t believe he’d just said ‘love’ to Blue. A part of him did love Blue. That tended to happen when there was only one person in the world that you could talk to. But, _shit_ , he hadn’t meant to say anything. It was too late to retrieve the email. He was too intoxicated and exhausted to send another email backpedaling. He was drunk — he could lie and say that that was why he’d said it. If Blue minded.

There was always a chance that Blue wouldn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter. sorry guys.  
> I have no idea what my posting schedule will be like for the next 2.5 weeks. I have exams until the 15th May that I really should be studying for right now. Nothing like exams to get the creative juices flowing! (ie. I’m procrastinating). I’ll write as much as I can, but frankly, I have no idea how often I’ll be able to post. After the 15th May I’ll hopefully go back to posting every day


	8. The Magpie Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short filler chapter post-Halloween. just some Jacques&Blue, Simon&Leah, and Simon&family fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a busy week. Simon vs THSA arrived last Monday morning and I’d finished it by that evening. LOTO arrived this morning and I’m already finished that. I loved them both so much!!!  
> Since I’ve already planned out this story, it won’t contain spoilers for LOTO but it has inspired me to think about a sequel for this fic!  
> My last exam is next Tuesday and I’m crazy excited to be free (no idea if I'll get to write again before then)

Simon woke up with a pounding in his head.

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_   
_To: me_   
_Subject: Re: Mistakes_   
_Date October 28 13:09_

Dear Jacques,  
Sounds like you had fun last night. I’m not sure I did. I can’t remember much. I went against my own advice and got drunk too.  
I think I made a mistake last night. That’s hardly a surprise. Being a drunk closeted kid is never a good idea.  
I hope your head doesn’t hurt as much as mine.  
I’m glad you got the courage to come out to one (two?) more people.  
Love,  
Blue

***

_From: me_   
_To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_   
_Subject: Re: Mistakes_   
_Date: October 28 13:44_

Blue,  
I can’t imagine you drunk. I bet you do all sorts of ungrammatical things when you’re drunk. Sentence fragments and everything. I know you’re probably shaking your head at the screen reading this, thinking that you would never. But I’m willing to bet that you would.  
Maybe I’ll just have to get you drunk some time to find out.  
My head is killing me. My mom knocked on my door at 7am like she always does and I think I hissed at her. I’ve never hated having my bed right beside the window before today. Maybe I was turned into a vampire last night? There can’t be another explanation for why the sun is making me recoil like it’s burning me.  
I don’t think my friend drank so she probably remembers what I told her. She’s still asleep. Maybe I should sneak down and bring her up breakfast in bed to apologise for being drunk and stupid last night.  
I didn’t mean to. I got swept up in everything and a boy with a pretty smile made me feel like I could fly. I’ve been spending time (probably too much time) on the Internet recently and I’ve decided that I’m probably a Disaster Gay. They go around thinking that every boy who looks at them is flirting with them. If that doesn’t describe me then I don’t know what does. Every time a boy smiles at me, I want to ask them if they’re you. It seems like more and more boys are smiling at me since we started talking. Did you secretly find out who I am and pay people to flirt with me to throw me off your scent? If so, please don’t stop. I like thinking that boys like me. Even if it’s all in my head.  
Like last night. The boy who smiled at me last night is 110% straight. I thought he was flirting with me and then it was made very very very clear that I was wrong.  
I’m sorry your head hurts.  
Love, Jacques.

***

Simon tiptoed out of his room, stepping over a snoring Leah, and down the stairs. It was even brighter in the kitchen than in his bedroom and Simon was once again convinced that he may have been bitten by a vampire last night. The house was quiet. Simon’s mom usually had appointments on Saturday mornings and early afternoons and Simon’s dad would be taking Nora to her violin lesson, and would have brought Bieber with them to walk him during the class. Simon thanked a god he barely believed in for the quiet. It was just what he needed.

There was a jug beside the pancake griddle with a note propped up against it.

_Breakfast for Simon and Leah. Don’t burn anything, stupid. —N x_  

Simon peered into the jug. It was full of pancake mix. God, he loved his sister so damn much. He heated up the griddle and soon had two reasonable sized pancake stacks on two plates beside him. He collected the jars of Nutella and peanut butter from the cupboard and found a tray to bring everything up on.

By the time he got back upstairs, Leah was stretching and looking around. She flashed him an almost-smile when he came in, though it was probably just because he had food.

“Good morning to you too,” He rasped. Good lord, it sounded like he hadn’t used his voice in a decade. He set the tray down on his desk and coughed to clear his throat. “Breakfast is served, madam,” He said with a low bow.

“Thank you, Jenkins,” Leah replied haughtily, sticking her nose in the air. She got out of the bed and seemed to float over to the desk. It was funny how un-clumsy Leah was when she was pretending to be someone else. It reminded him of something his mum had once told him about stutters: stutterers often spoke clearly when they were playing a part or mimicking someone. Simon wondered if Leah’s feet had a stutter, and that was why she was only ever graceful when she wasn’t being herself.

The human brain was weird.

Leah hung around with Simon all day. Neither of them mentioned their conversation from the night before, but it wasn’t awkward. Simon knew that Leah knew and he knew that Leah knew that he knew she knew. If that made any sense at all.

There was a comfortable silence between them for most of the day while they worked through homework and listened to Simon’s records. Simon didn’t want her to leave because he knew he’d probably get in trouble for drinking as soon as Leah left.

But, just before dinner, Leah’s mom picked her up so they could go out for dinner with her latest boyfriend, a man named Gregory that Leah didn’t speak highly of (not that Leah liked any of her mom’s boyfriends).

Dinner was a stark contrast to the easy silence Simon had enjoyed for most of the day. The quiet was jarring, filled only by the occasional knife-scrape over a plate. By the time his mom spoke, Simon was so relieved that the silence was over that he forgot to be scared about what she might say.

“Your father and I don’t want to ground you for drinking.” Simon looked up at her. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. “You’re a responsible boy, and Leah was sober, and we’re happy that you came home instead of staying out all night to avoid being caught drunk. We’d always prefer you were drunk here where we can keep an eye on you, if you have to be drunk at all.”

Therapist moms were the best.

Simon’s dad joined in. “We were teenagers ourselves, not so long ago.” Simon and Nora both groaned. “Hey, now, come on! We were! And that means that we remember wanting to drink at seventeen. Or, nearly seventeen, in your case, Simon. We don’t want this to become a habit, but we can let one Halloween party slide.”

Simon beamed at his parents. Nora held up her phone. “I have you both on record saying that getting drunk once at seventeen is fine. Just in case you’ve forgotten by next year.”

Simon laughed. Nora never wanted to get the short straw by being the youngest and had a tendency to record or document in some way every single lenience their parents had given him, or even Alice, so that she could get the same treatment.

Simon’s dad reached over and kissed her forehead. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

***

_From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_   
_To: me_   
_Subject: Re: Mistakes_   
_Date October 28 18:44_

Darling Jacques,  
You are wrong. I do have it on good authority that I am a very physically sloppy drunk, but that would never translate into my use of the English language. I would never speak with anything other than the most pristine grammar.  
I don’t know who you are, Jacques. I thought I did, but I’m pretty sure I was wrong. Wishful thinking and all that. The guy I thought you were is pining after a girl he’s friends with. She just started dating a dickhead and he seems really jealous.  
My point is, if I knew who you were, I wouldn’t pay people to flirt with you. It’s much more likely that I’d pay people to help me flirt with you. I’m horrifically quiet around cute boys. I hope you don’t mind that I’m imagining you as a cute boy.  
Why would your mom wake you up so early? Is she evil?  
Also, if you do turn into a vampire, do you think you’ll be one of the sexy modern ones? I’ve seen Buffy and I’m not sure I could be with you if you turn out like that. Then again, if you sparkle, I’m not sure I’m gay enough to be seen with you.  
Love,  
Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it isn't clear, I love Emily Spier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome. Praise is even more so ;)  
> If I don't reply to your comment, I've probably read it six times and I'm blushing so much I don't know what to say back. I'm trying to reply to them all.


End file.
